Zack may seem a bit out of character in this story. I'm gonna try to work him into the sarcastic jokester he is throughout the course of the story, but keep in mind he will not be EXACTLY the same as he usually is. There's a lot of elements in this story; romance, mystery, suspense, adventure, and even a little bit of a sci-fi-ish vibe. So hopefully you guys will all like it. Zack's 22 in this story, but I imagine he looks the same as he does now, except maybe just a little bit taller. No mustaches or beards or any of that nonsense. So, without further ado, I present… the Arrangements
~fallintofantasy
the arrangements
Chapter One
Flicker
The clouds overhead were beginning to turn grey; it would start raining soon. Zack looked downward as he walked, pulling his neck into the collar of his black pea coat. A chilling breeze blew through the air, momentarily blowing his hair around. He sank lower into his jacket and stuffed his hands into his pockets, staring absently at the ground as he began to become oblivious to his surroundings.
Zack suddenly ran into a woman, their shoulders slamming into each other, the jolt snapping him out of his reverie. Papers floated out from her arms and flew in all directions.
"I'm… sorry," he said, leaning down and beginning to help her sift through all the pages.
"No, its fine," she said, laughing a little bit. "This happens to me a lot actually."
While struggling to grab all the pages before they flew away, Zack noticed each had small dots and dashes, lines that swerved everywhere and connected each other, organized on sets of lines. He remembered seeing them somewhere, and was oddly surprised that he knew what the pages were.
"Sheet music?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her questioningly.
"Well yes, I'm a-uh… composer," she answered, peering at Zack through her dark brown bangs. "Well… a relatively new composer. Not many of my pieces have been accepted or published. I play the cello, so that's basically the only instrument I can write music for."
Her hair was tied up in an elegant bun behind her head, a few strands hanging loose. She wore a deep blue dress with a black jacket, and a white scarf was wrapped around her neck, anticipating the autumn weather. She had a certain aura about her that left Zack in a bit of a trance. He was shocked with wonder while talking to her.
"You said not many get published. So you have a few out?"
"Only one. It's the reason I was accepted into school here. So I moved from London, and have been trying to… get afoot here," she said, sighing. "Sometimes I think it would be better to just pack up and go home. To London, I mean. I haven't had much luck here, despite being accepted into Juilliard."
"Juilliard? Wow. That's- that's amazing." She gave him a soft smile, looking shyly up at him. "Were you heading anywhere? You look, um, nice. Dressed up for something."
"Yes. I was heading for a rehearsal at Carnegie Hall. They've allowed me to showcase some of my pieces… to try and help me get started."
Zack raised his eyebrows in surprise. She had graduated from Juilliard, was going to play at Carnegie Hall, and she wasn't even up on her feet yet? Carnegie Hall didn't take their performances lightly; if they were letting her play, when she wasn't even an established musician or composer, then she must've been good at what she did.
"I'd love to come by and see it, when you perform."
It was a strange thing to say. Certainly something well out of his usual realm of being a shy, slightly reclusive person. Zack had said it quickly, without thinking, but he knew he meant it. He handed her all of the papers, neatly stack in a pile, and she tucked them under her arm, standing up.
"And who are you, my mysterious gentleman?" she asked, a slight tinge of joy creeping into her voice.
"Martin. Zackary Martin."
"And what is it that you do, Mr. Martin?" she asked, her accent causing him to become momentarily paralyzed.
"I'm… I'm a photographer."
"And how long have you been doing that?" she said.
He thought for a moment, to the earliest time he remembered realizing his passion. "Ever since I can remember. For my eighteenth birthday, my mom gave me an old Polaroid camera, and that's when I started-"
He had snuck into his room, being careful to be especially quiet, and had snapped a picture of him and swiftly exited. When the photo slid out of his newly acquired camera and developed, it had shown him bent down, looking at a paper, pen in hand, concentrating on what he was writing.
For a second Zack become confused, his mind whirling from the unexpected vision. "-started to realize that's what I liked to do," he continued again, "But I'd always loved photographs. How they could capture a moment forever and keep it frozen in time."
Where had that came from? He couldn't place the flicker in any of his memories, and the person he had taken a picture of was a complete stranger to him. He hadn't seen his face, but he could sense what he was looking at. The woman seemed a bit worried about him, and she stared at his face with her eyebrows furrowed. "Are you all right?" she asked, placing a gloved hand on his sleeve to steady him.
"I'm- fine," he managed to get out, still confused by the- memory? Or was it something else?
"Well. I should get going then." She turned around, music under her arm, and began to stride away.
"Wait!" Zack yelled, reaching a hand out in her direction. She stopped and turned her head slightly back at him.
"I never got your name."
"Evelyn," she said, giving him a smile. "Evelyn Anderson."
Zack stared at her as she walked away, feeling slight dazzled and in wonder. He'd only spent five minutes with her, and yet she left a large impression on his mind. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and made his way toward his apartment; the earlier flicker completely forgotten.
-v-
The Next Day
Zack was in Central Park, taking pictures to add to his portfolio. The air was crisp, the clouds heavy, and the sun barely peeking out as he snapped his photos. He liked taking pictures of odd things; things that people didn't normally see. Because of this, people were a large subject in his photographs. He liked capturing moments that were different, that weren't in most pictures. He avoided taking pictures of things that seemed to personal or private, thought. He didn't like people intruding on his privacy, so he tried his best to avoid intruding on others.
Sometimes he liked to close one eye and just look through the small viewfinder, so he only saw small areas at a time. He would then take as many pictures from around him as he could, so the result when he saw them was like a puzzle; he'd then spend hours trying to imagine the exact scene around him from when his vision had been focused on small spots.
He decided to do it today to see what he found. He snapped one picture of a bird standing on a branch directly above a woman sitting on a bench. She was facing the other direction, so he couldn't see her face. The bird was directly above her head, like a light bulb that popped up when someone stumbled upon an idea in movies and cartoons.
Another picture had a couple sitting beneath a tree, leaves falling around them.
While looking through the viewfinder, he saw a dark figure in the distance. Zooming in, he found that it was a woman, performing songs by a large fountain. Her dark brown hair lay over her shoulders, and her fingers moved swiftly on the fingerboard of her instrument. A cello.
Evelyn.
For a second, Zack just stared at her through his camera lens, before he pushed a button and with a click, her picture was on his camera. She was sitting on a small stool, her case open next to her, and her face was bent down in concentration. One finger was placed on the fingerboard, the others lifted off, and her bow was held with precision.
Vibrato.
Zack didn't know how he knew such a word, like he didn't know that he could understand music, and shook his head to clear his head. In the picture, despite being partially obscured, her face was like the face of a statue; but he could clearly tell she was enjoying herself.
Camera hanging around his neck, he began walking toward the fountain; his legs seemed to have a mind of their own, because despite his urge to speak with her, he had no idea what he was going to say or if talking was actually a good idea.
As he came closer he realized that only a few people were around listening. He stopped about ten feet away, leaned his back against a tree, and stared at her as she played, listening.
The music was sweeping, causing his heart to stop and his mind to become lost in the notes that filled the air. Zack had never heard this song before, so he assumed that it was one of her own.
She's amazing, he thought. It was hard to believe none of her music could have been accepted. Maybe no one could play it the way she wanted, the way she did. When she was finished she began packing up her instrument, and Zack walked up to her.
"That was amazing," he told her. She jumped, dropping her bow. Zack swooped in and grabbed it before the polished wood could hit the concrete ground.
"Oh, you startled me. Thank…" She looked up at him, taking the bow from his hands. "Oh, it's you. My mysterious gentleman, Mr. Martin."
He gave a slight chuckle, sitting down on the stone of the fountain next to her. "What was that song called?"
"Melatonin. It's not one of my favorites, but it's a perfect song for this day," she said, gesturing to the clouds overhead, the slight chill, and the trees that were slowly becoming skeletons.
"I thought it was beautiful."
She smiled. "If you like that one, you should hear the ones I'm most proud of. I've worked very hard on them."
She continued putting up her instrument, locking the case closed when she was finished.
"I wasn't kidding when I said I'd love to come to your concert."
She looked at him hard, sitting on the fountain, gloved hands resting in his lap, as if she was slightly suspicious of him. He did seem very nice, she thought. Nicer than a lot of other people she had met in New York. She remembered how he had helped her with her things. One person ran into her and had looked at her like she was the stupid one, walking away without even helping her pick up her belongings. He seemed different, somehow. With a moment's hesitation, she asked, "Who are you, Mr. Martin?"
Zack was taken aback by this question, and he thought a while before answering. "I'm not exactly sure. Just someone trying to survive the world, I guess."
"And what is it that makes you so different from all the others?"
"I'm not sure I am. I just try to help. Make sure everything is fair."
Looking at him, she dug in her bag and retrieved a ticket, and handed it to him.
"I look forward to seeing you there," she said, and picked up her instrument and began to walk away.
Zack stared at the ticket, a small smile creeping onto his face. For some reason, he felt awestruck. He had a ticket to this woman's performance; this woman who had somehow captivated him. Zack placed the ticket in his camera bag and ran after her.
"Hey. I was just wondering…"
"No matter how much of a gentleman you are, Mr. Martin, I am not the type of girl to simply mingle about and go places with strangers."
"It's just that… I don't- want- to be strangers."
Evelyn stopped walking, and looked sideways at Zack. "You're very persistent, aren't you?"
"Only with some people. I thought-"
Evelyn rushed in at him, catching his lips in mid-sentence. After a moment of surprise, Zack returned the kiss and encircled his arms around her. They broke apart, Zack resting his forehead against hers and smiling. "I'm persistent?" he asked.
"Sometimes persistence gets you what you want."
"And what is it that you want, Ms. Anderson?" he whispered.
"The question, I believe, is what you want."
He smiled, swaying them gently. "I want you to play me those songs that you said you were the most proud of."
She gave a small laugh. "I'll have to go get my music."
-v-
This shouldn't be happening. They, the boy and the girl, shared a kiss, oblivious to the impending weather around them.
This shouldn't be happening. And yet they had made sure it did. A small part of him was happy for them; and another was staring at them with regret and sadness.
He always tried to convince himself that this was good. If they hadn't done what they did then he would never have met her. Couldn't have met her. But they made sure that he did. This was good, he thought. Shouldn't everyone be able to find their soul mate? Some people never found theirs; other things were made out for them.
So was it good that he had found his? Of course, it was for one reason and for one reason only; protection. If she didn't need it, then there was a good chance they never would have met; other arrangements would have been made for the both of them, and even though they were meant to be together, they would be placed apart. Never to meet each other. To see each other.
He felt guilty for having them meet and be together for this. Just for this reason. But they were together, and that, he convinced himself, was a good thing. Never mind the fact that she was too important to lose. Never mind the fact that they all saw the boy as one thing. Only he saw the other side, the side that saw the true love.
With a sigh, Thomas placed his hat on and walked into the rain.
They had made the right choice.
He hoped.
Otherwise the price paid would be severe.
-v-
They were lying on his bed, Zack's arm resting protectively on her.
He slept silently, at peace, and his face slowly began to contort in discomfort.
"Why do you always have to be so mean to your brother?"
"I'm sure his excuse is relevant to the situation, Mom."
"I told you this would happen!"
"Why do you always have to be so mean to your brother?"
"Mom?"
"Tell me where he is!"
"Help!"
"Why do you always have to be so mean to your brother?"
Brother brother brother brother brother brother…
"ZACK!"
Zack sprung awake, breathing heavily.
Pulling the blanket out from underneath his arm, he gently sat up, being careful not to wake Evelyn up.
He swung his legs out from under the blanket, sitting and leaning heavily on the edge of the bed.
That voice. That voice. It had sounded so… helpless. "ZACK!" Like it was crying for help.
Zack bent down, grabbing his boxers from the floor. He stood up, slipping them on and grabbing his shirt from the chair it was flung onto.
"Brother?" he thought, pulling his shirt over his head. "Brother?" He never had a brother. He was an only child.
He was just about to head to the bathroom when he saw something behind his nightstand. Picking it up, he realized it was a picture. Bent down, looking at a paper, pen in hand, concentrating on what he was writing. The picture he didn't remember taking or having. The one from his flicker. Zack stared at it, confusion blooming in his head. The person in the picture looked exactly like him. Like he was staring in a mirror.
Zack had a vague feeling that this wasn't him in the photo. This wasn't him.
He knew it wasn't.
This is by far the longest chapter of anything I have ever written for a fanfiction ever. Its 2,636 words long (without all the long author's notes). I want to try and make every chapter long in the story like this one, so it may be a few days before I actually post new chapters. Starting soon, they will be evil little cliffhangers and revelations. Secrets will slowly be revealed. And you will be shocked.
~fallintofantasy